We spin,
each nucleotide a handshake,
an irresistible cohesion.
We are made of lovers, clinging tight.
Bindweed. Smaller than bindweed,
more close, more compact.
If you were a universe, he said,
Each of my planets would circle your stars.
If I were a universe, my heart would be bigger.
I would be able to encompass hate without a twitch.
If I were to dissect myself,
and lay out my soul in a periodic table,
each square tablet would be a letter from home.
Each square tablet would hold a solar system
of electrons waltzing about their nucleus,
like lovers unbearably held apart.
A Mormon love, perhaps.
If you were stardust, dull as sand (he said)
I would love you just the same.
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